Sharing a Bed With the Holmes Brothers
by Meilodi
Summary: What is sharing a bed with the Holmes brothers like? John and Anthea is about to find out. absolutely no romance, just awkward bed-sharing.


Chapter 1- Sherlock Holmes

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything, what about you?**

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"Where are we again?"

"The Inn where the victim was murdered three nights ago."

"No, I mean why are we here?"

"You did not mean that, you asked where we were, and I told you." Sherlock said, smiling smugly, "We are here because the owner of the inn thinks that the police are not doing a very nice job investigating, or at least he says."

"Meaning?"

"He either thinks that the police is too slow and are ruining his business, or he's the murderer and a psychopath, wanting to show off."

"I think it's the first, he doesn't seem like a psychopath."

"Never judge a book by its cover, John."

They arrived at the counter of the inn, where the owner with a thick accent greeted them,

"Ahh. Mr. Holmes. Thank you so much for showing up." He shook their hands, "And this must be Mr. Watson! Nice to meet you."

"Doctor." Sherlock said,

"Sorry?"

"Doctor, Dr. Watson."

"Ohh, I'm sorry, Dr. Watson. Didn't know."

"It's fine. Though a man doesn't go to school for an extra 11 years to be called Mister."

"Um... right." He said, and shifted his weight on his foot uncomfortably,

"I'm afraid there's no rooms left other than the double bed one, though. Do you guys mind sharing a bed?"

"Actually..." John started to say,

"No, we won't mind." Sherlock said, smiling warmly at the man while giving John a glare.

"Here is your keys..." The man handed them the keys and glanced at Watson uncertainly, "I'm very sorry for the lack of rooms available, Dr. Watson."

"It's fine, it's fine." He said, looking over at Sherlock who is examining a bar stool with interest.

* * *

"Easy case?"

"Cup of tea." Sherlock said, and promptly collapsed on the bed, "Though you do seem confused. It's very obvious."

"Not to me..." John mumbled under his breath. He turned to climb on bed when it hit him, _Why on earth are we sharing a bed? How am I going to share a bed with Sherlock Holmes, I am not gay!_

"What are you waiting for? Your short legs must be exhausted after clambering up the stairs," Sherlock talked into his pillow, close to sleep,

"My legs are a perfectly fine length, it's yours that are way too long." John replied him, angry at his thinly veiled insult.

"Come on then." Sherlock rolled over to the other side of the bed, leaving half the bed bare for John.

"But... we, share a bed?"

"Do you have a problem with that?"

"Um... No. I guess not."

John climbed on top of bed, and tugged the duvet from Sherlock's grasp, he released it after several tugs, and rolled over comfortably. John lay there, clutching the duvet tightly in his hands, he tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable enough to go to sleep.

"Stop turning, John. You're keeping me awake."

"Sorry, Sherlock."

John lay still, afraid to move, even a little afraid to breathe too loud.

"Um... Sherlock?"

"John, I would really appreciate some silence right now. Even if you are not tired, which I assure you, according to your face expressions and your body language, you are, I would very much like to sleep."

"Sorry, Sherlock. Just wondering..."

"Stop wondering, John, it's not good for anyone other than me. And I rarely wonder, I think."

"Sherlock..." John groaned, suddenly not feeling the need to wake Sherlock up "You said you want to sleep, so sleep."

"You are the one who bothered me, now shut up and let me rest."

John lay there, his face suddenly warming as his thoughts drifted to his barely dressed flatmate beside him. Sherlock rarely wears anything to sleep, it's John's insistent that made him wear his pajama pants. John often wondered why Sherlock owns pajamas when he doesn't wear anything to sleep, and now he wondered how he knows that Sherlock doesn't wear anything to sleep.

Sherlock's breathing became heavier, and he started to snore softly. John closed his eyes and slowly drifted to sleep.

* * *

John opened his eyes at the sound of a soft knocking on the wooden door, he groaned and rubbed his eyes, blinking at the bright sunlight streaming in through the window,

"Yeah yeah, coming!" He called out to the door. He sat up, and realized that in his sleep, he had somehow cuddled up to Sherlock and Sherlock had thrown an arm on top if him across his chest, John shoved the arm off, and climbed out to open the door, he opened the door as he was tugging on his jumper,

"Ello' there." The cheerful man with red cheeks from the inn kitchen, who they had interviewed yesterday, appeared at the door, "I was ordered to bring the couple at room 21 breakfast."

"Um.. Thank you, we're not a couple though."

The man looked thoroughly unconvinced, especially since the still asleep Sherlock seemed naked under the duvet,

"Sure you're not," The man said, in a tone that clearly said that they are, "I'll bring in the breakfast, then."

"Oh, breakfast, lovely." Sherlock had woke up and is sitting up, stretching his arms as he yawned and ran a hand through his hair, "John, last night was absolutely amazing."

Right then and there, John Watson wanted to die.

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